


Thanks For Coming Out

by tweed_princess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Frat Parties, Halloween, In Which Everyone's Afraid to Talk About Feelings, Modern AU, Smut, public display
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweed_princess/pseuds/tweed_princess
Summary: She’s seen Jon no less than five times from her position on the very dark loft of this frat house, searching for her. The lighting is very dim, and he’s wearing a mask, but she knows it’s him. There’s no mistaking that hair, or better yet, that ass, even as he's pushing through the crowd.Written for the October Fanwork Challenge over at jonxsansafanfiction on Tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy October, everyone! 
> 
> Please be sure to check out all the other great fanworks for this challenge at jonxsansafanfiction.tumblr.com! You can find me at disorganizeddomesticgoddess.tumblr.com.

_-Come find me_

_-There’s a million people here, how am I going to find you?_

_-Meow ;)_

_-Are you telling me you’re dressed like a cat?_

She lets that hang in the air, and likes how powerful it makes her feel. She’s seen Jon no less than five times from her position on the very dark loft of this frat house, searching for her. The lighting is very dim, and he’s wearing a mask, but she _knows_ it’s him. There’s no mistaking that hair, or better yet, that ass, even as he's pushing through the crowd.

Before the party, she’d texted him a picture of her in the underwear she’d chosen for the night- her new (and now favorite) lacy, emerald green bra and panty set. The fabric of the bra is very impractical and thin, thin enough to show off her nipples, and she knows that the underwear is his favorite kind: cheeky. She’d had to contort herself a little so he’d get a view of her ass and at least one nipple, but her efforts were clearly well appreciated. After a few minutes, he’d texted back. _Does this mean we’re staying in tonight?_

Tempting as it was, Sansa is a sorority sister, and there are certain requirements to uphold with such a membership. One of those things is to be social, especially at events like these, where the proceeds from the cover charge went to the SPCA. Jon is decidedly _un_ social, and very much so not a part of Greek life (which is only a plus in her mind), so this is something that maybe he’d never understand.

So she threw on the costume she’d planned: cat ears and masquerade mask, bodycon dress, sheer tights, her sexiest heels, all black- barely a costume, but who was going to deny a hot girl entrance to a frat party because her costume was a little lacking?

She’s growing to regret her decision to attend less and less. This game is fun, and it’s certainly getting her blood pumping.

Finally, she texts him.

_-Zorro?_

She watches him pull his phone out. He’s obviously aware that she’s watching him now, and he visibly stiffens and straightens his posture before texting her back.  

_-Dread Pirate Roberts_

Sansa smiles. Princess Bride is one of her favorite movies, and Dread Pirate Roberts was part of her girlhood sexual awakening.  

_-Even better_

She bites her lip, running through a list of pros and cons in her head in regards to keeping this up much longer. She’s growing impatient, though, and concedes that maybe her position in the house has made this whole thing a bit unfair.

_-You’re taking too long. Look up._

Sansa watches Jon freeze, his gaze rising up to meet her. It’s so dark, she must only be a shadow, but recognition flashes across his face. Her heart begins fluttering in her chest when he approaches and climbs the stairs, all calm, swift, and inconspicuous. Now he’s being the tease.

Suddenly, he’s behind her, covering her back and ass with his front. “You’re very sneaky,” he murmurs in her ear. She smiles and responds by pressing against him, surprised by the erection that greets her back. Feeling wicked, she begins grinding her ass against his erection to the beat of the music that is thumping through the speakers. "Fuck."

The back of his hand brushes up against the skin of her thigh just below the hem of her skirt. She stills and practically chokes when that same hand slides up her dress. Jon loves her ass, he always tells her so, and he gives her a pleased hum as he takes a handful of it.

“Have I ever told you how much I love these kinds of panties?” he says, running a knuckle along the edge of the lace, over the curve of her bottom. His finger disappears between her legs, and is joined by two others, stroking her core through the fabric. His breath hitches in his throat, and she knows that means she's wet enough to have soaked through. 

Sansa moans, spreading her legs to give him better access. “Why do you think I bought them?” she says. This causes him to make a little noise in the back of his throat. Although they haven’t discussed the nature of their relationship, she can’t help but recognize the meaning in her buying underwear with him in mind.

“You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you, Sansa? Is that why you’re already so wet for me?” he rasps in her ear, pushing her hair to one side with his free hand and kissing her neck.

“Mmm,” is all she can manage to say in response. He’s not wrong. 

“I have half a mind to pull these panties down and fuck you against this banister,” Jon says. 

Her eyes flutter shut. That idea sends a thrill through her, makes her grip the banister until her knuckles turn white and ache. “Maybe you should.”

Jon gives her a throaty laugh, seems to consider this for a moment. “No.” He pushes her panties to the side with his fingers and slips them between her folds, making her squeak. The tip of his index finger slides over her clit, not giving her the pressure she desperately wants. She presses herself harder into his hand, but he pulls back a little.

“Don’t tease me,” she warns, gasping.

“I’m going to take my time with you. I want to get my head between those thighs. But.” She shudders again. “Because I can, I’m going to make you come in front of this whole party.”

 _There’s_ that pressure she needs, his fingers moving achingly slow at first. That draws a whine from her lips. Soon he’s picking up speed, and she’s arching her back, pushing back against his hand, biting her lip hard enough to almost draw blood.  

Below them, the party rages on, oblivious to what’s happening above. She can see her best friend, Margaery, taking shots with a handful of their sorority sisters, and _two_ of her ex-boyfriends: Joffrey (freshman year) and Harry (junior year), playing beer pong. The idea that any one of them could climb these stairs and come upon them at any given moment makes her cunt ache. Better yet, they could just simply look up and figure things out rather quickly. She almost wishes Joffrey or Harry would; both had accused her of being a dead fish in bed, as if their weak foreplay and clumsy bucking was something she could work with. _Look at me now, assholes._

She can’t help it, her thighs suddenly clamp around his hand like a vice, but he keeps moving, keeps rubbing her clit and kissing and sucking her neck. She’s quaking, trembling so badly she's afraid that she’s going to toss herself over the railing. Almost reading her thoughts, Jon snakes his free hand around her waist. He pulls her closer to him, still leaving enough space for range of motion. The hand across her waist snakes towards her breasts and slips into her dress. He pinches her nipple and growls.

“Are you close, sweetheart? Are you going to come?” She nods and moans, feeling so filthy and shameless as she pants and squirms against him, but she’s loving it so much. He’s murmuring sweet, filthy words of encouragement against her skin, coaxing her release out of her. She comes with a blinding force against his hand, a sob forcing its way through her clenched teeth.

Jon drops his forehead against her shoulder, breath ghosting over her skin. His cock is hard and insistent against the swell of her ass, and she moves against him again until he stills her hips with his hands. He holds her there for a moment, showing great restraint.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come right here, and we’re both going to be very disappointed,” he says, laughing. “Come on, follow me.”

He releases her and grabs her hand. He’s taking her down a hallway, and Sansa raises an eyebrow at him, puzzled as to why he knows exactly where he’s going.

“I’ve spent a lot of time here. I’ve helped many a frat brother pass Political Science 121.” He smiles. “For a fee, of course.”

Jon leads her past several bedrooms (some of which have couples in them, just fucking right out in the open, any of whom might have come across them on the loft just moments ago) to a room at the end of the hall. He pushes it open and inside are dozens of bookshelves, covered in yearbooks and dusty textbooks. In the middle of the room sits a large, sturdy-looking mahogany table.

“Study room. No one will find us in here, I don’t think the guys even know it exists.”

She smacks his shoulder. “Be nice,” she warns. He laughs, moving to lock the door. While his back is turned, she pulls her dress over her head, knocking her ears askew. She’s adjusting them when he turns back around. He freezes.

“Even better than the picture,” he says, voice hoarse as his eyes look her up and down. She sits down on the table, one foot flat next to her, one dangling down towards the floor. She’s spread herself open for him. He visibly swallows, moves towards her, and settles between her thighs, capturing her in a searing kiss. He places his hand to her forehead and gently tilts her head back; he sweeps his lips to her chin, and then down the white column of her throat. His tongue laves the hollow between her collar bones before his mouth descends over her bosom and to her left breast. Trembling fingers run along the lace edge of her bra. He hooks a finger under the strap, snapping it lightly against her skin.

“This bra is... something else,” he manages, and she laughs. Jon quiets her by cupping her breast in his hands, mouth descending on her lace-covered nipple.

“Do you like it?” Sansa asks breathlessly, and he makes noise that she can only assume is approval. He moves his mouth to her other nipple, licking and nipping until it is just as stiff as the other. The cold air that hits her when he pulls away makes them even harder.

He kneels and runs a line down her stomach with his tongue, pausing at her navel (which makes her giggle-moan), until he meets her panties. “I did warn you,” he says with a smile as he hooks his index fingers into the waistband, pulling them smoothly down her hips and legs. She can hardly believe her own eyes when he holds the panties to his face and inhales, eyes fluttering closed. It's probably the most filthy thing she's ever seen, and she fucking _loves_ it.

“ _Jon_ ,” Sansa moans, half-pleading. He moves to remove his mask, but she stops him with a grin. “Leave it on. Please.” He smirks.

Panties still in hand, he descends upon her, burying his face deep in her cunt. The first brush of his tongue against her clit leaves her reeling, and each subsequent lick sends a jolt through her body. When he slides his index and middle finger inside her, crooks them and pumps into her, she comes, keening and snapping her hips. He guides her through it, slowing his ministrations to match the fluttering of her muscles around his fingers.

When she’s able to think actual thoughts again, she looks down at him. He’s looking up at her, with his chin perched on the table, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Sansa rolls her eyes.

“Get up here and fuck me,” she urges. She doesn’t need to tell him twice. Within a half-second, he’s standing again. He pulls a condom from his left pocket, and she grabs it from him, opening it. He helpfully unzips his pants and lets them drop, along with his boxers, to his ankles. Sansa gives him a few good strokes, grinning at his intense look of concentration, before rolling the condom on. They both pause, and his eyes bore into her. There is something hanging in the air, maybe something he wants to say. Whatever it is is quickly lost when Jon grabs the thigh of the leg she’s perched on the table and pushes into her.

Jon’s thrusts are slow and measured at first, but when she begs him to fuck her harder, he seemingly loses control, babbling nonsense against her shoulder. She revels in it, the pounding of flesh on flesh and the slick slide of him pumping in and out of her.

His hand drops to the apex of her thighs, thumb rubbing insistently on her clit, still ultra-sensitive from her last orgasm. The feeling is almost too much; she very nearly bats his hand away, but another orgasm builds within her, and she decides to stick it out.  

“Come for me, Sansa,” he begs, for the second time that night, and the tension in her lower belly snaps. Sansa throws her head back and comes with a sharp cry. He follows her not long after, movements erratic until they still completely. She falls back on the table, pulling him with her.

They lay like that for a while, until he slides out of her. He turns away from her and awkwardly walks to the trashcan by the door, slipping off the condom and tying it in a knot. Sansa pulls her dress back over her head, fixes her ears.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Sansa says. Jon barks out a laugh, appreciating the hidden context in her words. But she’s genuine. Everything is better when he’s there, and she’s not just talking about the sex. She wants to tell him so, but the words die in her throat.

“Thanks for having me,” he replies, pulling her into a kiss. There’s _heart_ in it, she swears there is, and she pours herself into it. He breaks away, pausing to kiss her briefly on the forehead. “I’ll, uh, see you around, yeah?”

She wants to beg him to stay, attend the party with her. But this isn’t his scene. There would be a million questions from everyone else, anyway. So she just smiles. “You will.”

“Have a good time, Sansa.” And with that, he slips out the door.


End file.
